10,000 Ways to Die
by MassHysteric
Summary: - REFORMATTED - Tonight, at 10pm CST Citadel Standard Time , the Illium Underground Channel premieres a brand new reality series. An old classic from Earth is updated for the galactic connoisseur of the gruesome. Krogan approved! Viewer discretion is strongly advised…
1. Contortionist

10,000 Ways to Die

Hey everyone, I'm back! Sorry I've been away for a while – my little break went a bit longer than expected. Things to take care of. This latest deviation combines my love of Mass Effect with a guilty pleasure. 1,000 Ways to Die is property of and copyrighted by Spike TV. If this work gets pulled from posting, I deeply apologize for any offense it may have caused. I don't endorse any of the actions depicted within. This is not for everyone and definitely not for the squeamish – you have been warned!

_Tonight at 10pm CST (Citadel Standard Time), the Illium Underground Channel premieres a brand new reality series. An old classic from Earth is updated for the galactic connoisseur of the gruesome. Krogan approved! Viewer discretion is strongly advised…_

The stories you are about to see are true and based on actual events.

**WARNING:** The deaths portrayed in this show are real and extremely graphic. Do not attempt anything you see here…

You will die!

Death is everywhere. Some of us avoid it… others can't seem to get out of its way. Every day, we face the danger of disease, toxins, physical injury and catastrophe. That we survive at all is a miracle! It's a dangerous galaxy we live in... and each day we live… we face 10,000 Ways to Die!

Time: November 9th, 2177  
>Location: Kol Province, Sur'Kesh<p>

It's just another day at the Praoth circus. People from on and off world flocked to see the menagerie of strange creatures on display. Acrobats and tumblers performed feats of skill, balance and strength. There were even clowns to amuse or disturb the tiny tots in the audience. Then the lights dimmed and out came Praoth's star attraction: Samtil Panish. A contortionist like no one had ever seen.

Every species boasts a few members that have a bit more… reach and flexibility than average. But Sammy left them all in the dust. He was a salarian: his species has a higher percentage of cartilage in their skeletons than others. Cartilage is soft, connective tissue that often acts as a cushion between joints. And he used it to its full advantage. It was like watching someone caught in a train wreck with no train. He would twist, bend and squish himself in ways that left the audience aghast and astounded. But always at the end, he righted himself and smiled brightly. No worse for wear, no permanent damage done. He loved to perform and he had no shortage of fans, especially of the female persuasion.

He also loved to party and gamble. Samtil was soon in debt up to his eyeballs and he needed credits badly. He tried negotiating with the circus executives for a raise, but they refused. He couldn't exactly quit; circus life was all he knew and he barely had enough to live on. There was one glimmer of hope, however. He had submitted a vid of his performance to Ringling Brothers, a human circus. They were in the market for a few non-human acts to add to their show. Surely they would love to have him… if they could meet his asking price.

One day after a performance, Samtil received an unusual communication. A krogan envoy was requesting a private show. And credits were no object. Sammy had his doubts but he desperately needed the money. He accepted their offer and suggested that his home would suffice as a stage. The envoy agreed.

Samtil's home was a bit out of the way, just outside of town, and the krogan envoy appreciated the seclusion. The envoy turned out to be female. Krogan love to frolic almost as much as they love to fight. The irony of the situation didn't exactly escape Samtil. His people created the infamous genophage that greatly reduced the krogan populations. Now this burly babe was accosting him and she had a special fetish to indulge: she wanted Sammy as her own personal twisty toy!

As her guard stood watch Samtil bent and twisted around. The envoy was captivated. She moved in, wanting to shape him in some other ways. It was getting a bit uncomfortable for him, but this was a paying customer. He'd be a fool to refuse. When she had finished with him, she had him folded forwards with the fingers of his hands tied under his rump. His legs wrapped over and around his head. She stood back to admire her sculpting prowess and then challenged the salarian to untie himself. But the poor guy was exhausted and his hunched position was constricting his chest, cutting down on his air. He just couldn't budge no matter how hard he tried. She didn't like that one bit. She huffed and puffed… and blew right out of Samtil's home with her guard in tow, leaving him all alone. Samtil could only budge a little to get some air, but time was running out. In addition to lack of sufficient oxygen, his pretzel-like state was constricting some major blood vessels. Clots were beginning to form. Some clots lodged into arteries feeding his brain, blocking the flow. Struggling only tired him out more. He kept at it… until he just couldn't anymore.

Samtil was a premiere circus star, but Harry Houdini he wasn't. Shortly after the contortionist expired, his console lit up with the call he had been waiting for. Ringling Brothers wanted to sign him on! Sammy's ship had finally come in, but sadly he missed the boat.

Sorry, Ringling. Samtil Panish can't answer your call right now.

He's a bit tied up…

Way #2091: Have Knot, Won't Unravel


	2. Food Poisoning

Time: August 9th, 2158  
>Location: Coral Hills, Shanxi<p>

Jack loved meat. He would fry it, bake it, steam it or boil it. White meat, dark meat, pulled or jerked - you get the idea. Jack fancied himself to be quite the gourmet chef, but he didn't like to share his culinary creations with others. He couldn't. They wouldn't appreciate his particular tastes.

You see, Jack's meat of choice was pig. Long pig.

Human flesh.

Meet "Cannibal" Jack Greely, one of Earth's most notorious serial killers. For years authorities have been pursuing him, but he always managed to elude capture. The only traces he left behind were the bones and leftovers of his victims. But over time the killings grew fewer in number. Soon Cannibal Jack all but disappeared. Maybe someone had made a meal of him? Hardly – turns out that Jack was growing tired of the same old thing. Only so many ways you can cook an eyeball or stuff a small intestine. He had consumed every kind of meat and protein known to man, including man. He was in the mood for something new, but what else was there? What was a frustrated homicidal epicure to do?

And then, a miracle happened: the First Contact War.

While Jack was out pleasing his palette, humanity discovered a mass relay in the Sol system and ventured out into the stars. And found out they weren't alone out there. Settling on the planet Shanxi, humans ran into one of the galaxy's most militant citizens: the turians. Soon, first contact became full contact. Jack had managed to score himself a seat on a transport to Shanxi before the war started, hoping to make a fresh start. As the call to arms went out and humans dug in with rifles, Jack waited in the desolate Coral Hills with knife and fork waiting to dig into the losers. He didn't have to wait very long.

Near the end of the war, a lone turian scout was patrolling the Hills. He came across Jack's prefabricated home and decided to have a look inside. It was his last mistake. In a brutal struggle, Jack's cleaver swung wildly, lopping off a fringe here, a finger there. Finally he pinned the turian on the floor and snapped his neck. Jack bristled with excitement. A new dish was on the menu tonight: deep fried turian.

Oh, how Jack must have salivated over this new opportunity! It was the one thing that kept him motivated as he began the arduous process of stripping off the turian's protective plates, an evolutionary defense against the damaging ultraviolet sunlight of Palaven, the turian homeworld. Jack figured deep frying at high temperatures would kill off any alien bugs or diseases in the flesh. A little garnish, some paprika for color and dinner was served.

It didn't seem too bad for Jack as he helped himself to more turian flank steak. He was supremely satisfied; it was the first good meal he had in a long time. He wondered what other exotic flavored meat awaited him out in the big, wide galaxy. But suddenly, a little rumbling began in his tummy. It quickly grew into one mo-fo of a stomachache. His airway began to constrict. Everything became a blur. He staggered about struggling to maintain and made for the medicine cabinet. You can't call for help – there's a war on, moron! And you're a wanted criminal. He thought he was so careful. What could he have missed?

Well, Jack, not all meat is created equal. There are two types of amino acids on which DNA, the building blocks of all life, are based: levo-amino acids, which constitute beings such as humans, asari, krogan and salarians. And dextro-amino acids, which make up quarians.

And turians. And the two do not mix.

If a lifeform of one type tries to digest a food, or lifeform, of the other type, one of two things can happen. Either nothing happens; the protein passing through giving no nutritional value. Or in the body's effort to process the foreign matter, anaphylactic shock results. The body sees it as an allergen and reacts to try and fight it off. Medical treatment must be administered quickly or death can result.

This is way more than Allegra can handle, Jack. You're outta luck.

Days later a Systems Alliance reconnaissance team found him dead in his shack. It wasn't hard to miss the putrid yet strangely appetizing scent in the air. They eventually confirmed his identity as Cannibal Jack. His killing spree was finally over.

His last meal… didn't agree with him.

Way #3447: The Other Dead Meat


	3. Environment Suit

Time: April 4th, 2184  
>Location: Afterlife, Omega<p>

If you told Kasom Bultas that credits can't buy you happiness, he'd just laugh in your face. Though he'd need to prop himself up on one of his crates first. Amongst the elite of the diminutive volus, Kasom was a titan. He made his vast fortune in shipping and trade. If you were transporting goods between worlds, odds are they were secured in one of his crates. They say money talks, and he sure loved to blab. He had purchased everything from mansions and customized starships to exotic animals and ancient relics. Kasom was the center of his universe and he enjoyed the attention he got.

But as with every being of greatness, Kasom Bultas had what would prove to be a tragic flaw. It wasn't his size, his unique charms or even his big spending. Kasom Bultas had a temper shorter than a krogan midget. It didn't take much to set him off. An odd shove, a random nudge. Or just refusing to do as he wanted.

Kasom had set off with his new asari friend Shani K'Nelan to paint the town on Omega. Afterlife was the first stop on his night of debauchery. It was a simple enough plan: some drinks, then some dancing. And then to someplace private to… embrace eternity. After getting sufficiently liquored up it was time for Kasom and Shani to strut their funky stuff on the dance floor. The little guy wasn't too bad! It might have been a great night for them both if only he didn't bump into Randy Mitchell.

Or if Randy Mitchell didn't bump into him, as he accused the young human of doing. Mitchell was kind of a punk but even he knew that picking a fight with a volus was like punching a baby. There are some things you just don't do! Kasom wanted him off the dance floor and out of the club. The human tried to give him the brush off and move away.

Wrong answer, Mitchell!

Kasom Bultas wasn't gonna let an upstart human embarrass him in front of his latest squeeze, oh no! He demanded satisfaction. Shani tried to calm him down but the volus was determined to show this little punk what's what. A shoving match broke out between David and Goliath on the dance floor. Mitchell continued to try and back out, but the little slugger sallied forth. Finally, Mitchell had all he was gonna take from this shrimp and figured just knocking him on his back would make his point. But as his hand snapped up to shove Kasom, one of the sharp ornaments on his bracelet moved just in front of his palm and got pushed through into a weak spot of Kasom's environment suit...

Worst. Sucker punch. Ever.

Volus and quarians are the only known races that require suits to move about and interact with the rest of galactic society safely. Suit failure spells trouble for both. When a quarian suit fails, the greatest menace is infection and disease due to their compromised immune systems. But when a volus suit goes, it's a whole lot worse.

The volus originate from Irune, a world with an ammonia-based atmosphere and gravity about 1.5 times that of the human homeworld, Earth. It is inhospitable for all other Council races, but the volus thrive there. When heading off world, their environment suits not only allow them to breathe but also replicate the high pressure atmosphere of their planet needed to literally hold them together.

When Kasom's suit blew, he was delivered a fatal two-pronged attack. The nitrogen-oxygen based outside air went straight into his lungs and choked him. The poisonous air only affected his ability to scream out and would have killed him in minutes. The sudden depressurization caused him to burst like a balloon.

This little scuffle was over, all right. No one could accuse Kasom of not having any guts - they had all sprayed over Mitchell and Shani. Any curiosity about what volus looked like underneath their suits died on that dance floor along with any appetites the partygoers may have had. Shani fainted from the shock. Mitchell fell to his knees and screamed hysterically, dripping with entrails. He was taken to a nearby medical center to receive sedatives and counseling. Afterlife was forced to close down briefly to tidy up. The remains of the volus were scooped into a bag to eventually be shipped back to Irune…

Safely tucked inside one of his crates.

So ends the tale of the great and powerful Kasom Bultas. He'd bought all of the king's horses and all of the king's men. But even they couldn't put this blowhard… back together again.

Way #6984: Ham Grenade

END


End file.
